Show me the Stars
by Impossible-StarGirl
Summary: Clara is stuck in a coma after the Name of the Doctor and the Doctor must save her. While in her comatose state, Clara doesn't remember anything. (This is a slightly rewritten version of my first fanfic, I modified the whole thing because I got bored)
1. Rescue Me, Chin Boy

Clara Oswald stares at the television, it's flickering images a great distraction from her cluttered, wandering mind and her scarred heart.

She's watching the newest episode of her favourite show, Doctor Who, watching her favourite doctor, Eleven, or Chin Boy, her nickname for him, as he helps a widow rescue her children from a Christmas-like place, blanketed in snow and practically begging to be explored. Clara had actually been daydreaming, drifting in and out of the episode but still understanding the plot. Well, barely.

She sighs and looks at the clock. It reads 2:11 AM, but she's wide awake.

Clara shuts the television off as soon as the end credits close, the theme song playing over and over again in her mind, the chords fading just to be revived. Moving quietly, she opens her bedroom door slowly, slipping out. She hops down the stairs as fast as she can while still remaining quiet, easily weaving through the sparse, ugly furniture her father had accumulated from his parents, and slides open the smudged glass door leading to the backyard.

After Clara's mother's death, her father had become distant and awkward, not really knowing what to do with a female adolescent blossoming into a woman. (In truth, she wasn't sure what to do either, entirely lost in the next step. And this time, her mother wasn't there to find her and save her, like when she was lost in Blackpool) She'd grown up with no advice, no care, no help, and no love. He would do his own thing and she would do her own thing, Clara forced to get a job to support herself. Her father allowed her to stay in his house, but it was more of not wanting to talk to her about moving out because he straight up didn't want to speak to her, than wanting to help her out in life.

That only piled on to other things; Her lack of self-esteem and Clara's lack of friends proved to be difficult when high school rolled around. From the very first day, she had run to different areas to explore. Because of her friend, she had been branded as a freak and a bad influence, everyone straying away from her like repellent.

The library, the first place she had fled to, had seemed too good to be true, and it proved to be when it had been burned down to ashes, the arsonist being her only 'friend', Nina. It had only been two days. Two. Days. When it happened. Since then, Clara had found a new place to spend her free time at school, hidden behind flower bushes and trees in the quad, safe from the insults and sneers, the judgemental looks and questioning glares.

Clara shakes her head as if to clear the memories away, but in reality, they've just been buried in the back of her mind, hiding only to resurface again later at the most inconvenient times. She shuts the glass sliding door slowly, and steps out into the moonlight, her whole backyard lit up from the moon.

The worn, wooden deck beneath her feet is cold and rough, so she moves past it, past the cold paved concrete onto the soft grass bristling beneath her toes, her footsteps light. A cool breeze blows past, carrying the lovely scent of petrichor, lifting her hair up and throwing it in her face. She brushes it away, and, making sure to stay out of the view of her father's bedroom window, steps over to the stone wall that divides the houses in the neighborhood. Clara places her hands on the top of it, the uneven roughness scraping against her hands, and jumps up high, throwing her leg over the wall when she's high enough. She grunts, takes a deep breath, and forces herself to crawl up, standing up slowly as she balances herself on top of the wall.

Only about two feet away from her is the neighbors roof, their house being a small one story hidden from the street by tall old oak trees, their branches stretching out over the street. The neighbors roof is almost completely flat and Clara prays that the neighbors have never heard her footsteps the other few times she climbed up there.

Clara jumps nimbly onto the roof, walking up a little closer to the centre before sitting down. She pulls her short red nightdress down so she's sitting on it. From up there, she can hear the bugs chirping, the airplanes flying up above, the cars on the freeway far away. She can smell the fresh, crisp November air. And she can see the stars.

She lays down, knitting her hands together behind her head, making a substitute pillow, and she looks up at the stars, shining brightly in the sky, scattered. Hazy bursts of clouds spread across the lower part of the sky, thickening and reaching out like fingers grasping for something, anything.

Clara closes her eyes and breathes out, feeling her breath hang in the air before her small nose.

She imagines running away with the Doctor, his warm, big hand taking her small one, his beautiful emerald blue pools speckled with amber and grey flecks staring into her own eyes.

Him, pulling her into the TARDIS, showing her a of time and space. Next stop everywhere.

Him, fighting danger at every turn, outwitting enemies and frustrating_ so_ many people.

Together, they could save the universe. Save the world.

But first, he needs to save her.

Clara Oswald opens her eyes. She smiles a sad smile that doesn't quite reach her eyes, that doesn't quite show off her dimples.

"Rescue me, Chin Boy, and show me the stars."


	2. Ignorance is Bliss

_Five weeks later..._

Clara grabs her limp blue bag and scurries out of the classroom as soon as the bell rings, signalling lunchtime. The snickers from her fellow classmates in Home Ec trail after her, laughing at her failed attempt at trying to be invisible, laughing at her.

She rushes to the northwest corner of the quad, hidden from view by blooming pink flower bushes and low trees, the rest of the quad just starting to fill up, thankfully taking no notice of Clara.

Clara slides onto the bench hidden by the vegetation, pulling out her sketchbook, dropping her bag next to her on the concrete floor. She pulls out her favourite book, the one owned by her mother, _101 Places To See_, pulling out the leaf tucked between the first few pages. Right now, thinking of her father slipping further and further into his depression, no doubt making it worse with his recent love of alcohol and mindless gambling, she can't see what exactly her mother saw in her father.

"Ignorance is bliss..." She mutters underneath her breath, and she doesn't need to contemplate what the meaning is. Happiness blinds people from the truth, making everything, every little detail, seem perfect. And it is bliss because you don't find the flaws buried deep, hidden in the shadows.

And the thought that her father made her mother happy, so joyful, that she was swimming in blissful ignorance, somehow calms her.

She smiles, pressing her lips in a tight line that curves upwards slightly, flipping through the sketchbook, past the various Doctor Who drawings of the human of pink and yellow, of the Girl Who Walked the Earth, of the Most Important Woman in The Universe, The Girl Who Waited, and the Last Centurion. She lands on a new page, staring blankly at the white canvas begging to be drenched in colour and geometric lines, but she stares, wishing away the shame that had been thrown at her when she passed the Doctor Who drawings.

Clara hadn't been watching the new episodes, had basically abandoned everything (Apart from drawing) she did for music. Music had helped some part of her cope with life, filling a void as she drowned (most of) her thoughts in the soothing melodies, focusing her mind on analyzing every single note, every lyric, a swirling song of color drifting around her and blanketing her in its arms. It made her feel loved, despite music being incapable of actually loving, or actually doing_ anything_ other than being...well, music.

Clara brushes the shame away, setting the leaf onto the paper. She starts furiously sketching it, starting off with the outline of the object before adding on details in the center, drawing it out line veins in a body.

"Umm...Hello?" A voice chimes out from the bushes. Clara jumps, the sketchbook falling to the floor with a thump, the leaf fluttering to the floor a little farther away. A dark haired boy steps out of the bushes, flushing and staring at the leaf, not meeting her burning gaze. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you."

Clara picks up her sketchbook, staring at his hair because he won't bother to look up at her. "No, no, it's okay, you didn't scare me." She straightens up fully, still surprisingly a foot shorter than the boy, watching as he tenderly picks up the leaf. He stares at it in awe, then looks at her, astonishment flashing across her face. "Wow, you're..." He trails off, his face turning light crimson.

"A-Are you okay?" Clara asks hesitantly, watching as he tries to cogitate. She can literally see him mull over what he should say, his emerald blue eyes flecked with other colours looking upwards to the sky as he bites his lower lip.

The boy sticks out his hand, talking with confidence as his gaze finally falls to her own dark eyes. "My name is John. John Smith."

"Clara. Clara Oswald." She ignores his hand, instead tightly hugging her sketchbook. John pulls back his hand, trying to act cool. She beams at his uneasiness.

Clara gingerly takes back the leaf from John and settles it into the crooks of her mother's book, settling the sketchbook down onto the bench. John immediately picks it back up, thumbing through it, staring wonderstruck.

"These are really good."John remarks after a while. His grin lights up his whole face, _in a really cute way_, Clara notes in her mind. She feels herself blush pink at the thought.

"Do you watch Doctor Who?" She asks, trying to distract herself from the thought, trying (And failing) to keep herself from checking him out. He smirks, as if reading her mind. "If I didn't, I wouldn't understand what these drawings are." He stops at the drawing she was working on, the leaf. John looks at her, one practically non-existent eyebrow arched, asking.

Clara snatches the sketchbook, her face blushing furiously. She doesn't want to talk about that anymore. "Why are you here? Why are you here at all?"

John's smile falters, and Clara suddenly feels guilty for being rude. She's about to apologize when he says, "I'm new at this school, and I noticed you rushing into the bushes when the lunch bell rang. I found it quite suspicious seeing a beautiful girl running off alone." He moves over on the bench to let Clara sit down.

Clara feels herself blush harder, and she worries he can feel the heat emitting from her face. She turns away, pretending to scan the quad through the small patches of clear bush. John unfortunately stands up, coming to her side. She can feel his eyes burning into her.

"So you watch Doctor Who, yeah?" Clara stays quiet as he asks, her curiousity perking. "So...You've seen the new episodes, right?" She shakes her head no. Clara can see out of the corner of her eye his look of disappointment, his posture slumping as his hair dips down low.

The bell rings, ending the lunch period, and Clara grabs her limp bag to head to her next class, Chorus. John follows after her. "You should watch the new episodes, they're really good. And you might be surprised." Clara notices his look of mischief and the magical bag that has appeared draped on his shoulder.

"What class do you have?" Clara askes John, changing topics as she slipped out of the bushes. He followes suit, plucking a fully blossomed pink flower off of the bush. "Same as you." He replies smugly, and she resists the urge to look back at him.

"And..how do you know what I have?" Clara stops at her classroom door, hoping maybe he doesn't realize it's her class, her back pressed against it, blocking him from seeing in. John smiles, the grin lighting up his eyes. "I never know why. I only know, who." He chuckles at her puzzled look, grabbing her hand. "Come along!"

She pulls opens the door to Chorus, allowing him to go in first. He spins, pulling Clara with him. She giggles, and behind her, she can hear the teacher clear his throat, loud and tinged with great annoyance. They stop, Clara's hair covering her face, both blushing, and rush to the open seats left in the back of the classroom. The choked, silent laughter of the other students echo around them, and for once, it doesn't bug Clara. As Clara sits, someone throws a paperball at her, coughing, "Loser!"

John catches the waded paperball just as it's about to hit Clara, dropping it in his bag for later disposal. "Don't worry. I'll protect you."

Clara blushes again and looks down at the floor, wondering if she still has blood left in her body or if it all went into her face.

_John's just being nice. Nothing else._

He brushes her hair behind her ear, setting the pink flower behind it.

_Nothing else..._

DWDWDWDWDWDWDW

Clara logs onto her Facebook account, the first time since she was eight, when Nina had convinced her to be apart of social media. She had immediately disliked it, having to scroll through gossip articles and useless feeds about 'News', like how a man had found something so amazing in his own backyard, which usually turned out to be something like a bomb shelter. In the end, she had deactivated her account, not wanting to be a part of the Network Web, trapped like insects in a spider web.

But John had convinced her to log on so they could talk, since he didn't have a phone.

So they could talk.

It felt weird having someone to talk to now. They hadn't even known each other that long, but Clara felt like she had known him forever, and he had admitted the same to her one day at lunch, awkwardly pacing back and forth between the small area they now occupied.

It turned out they had two classes together, Chorus and Science. And, of course, they always had lunch.

The pair had grown close as the days progressed, and hanging out with Clara had deemed John as an loser and bad influence, like her. The other kids had even made up nicknames; John was Sir Smithy Smith Smithsonian (Clara and John had been trying to say that five times fast without laughing or stumbling. Still no luck unfortunately) And Clara was Ozzie Oz Oswald.

She was pretty sure they weren't even trying to be clever anymore. But in a way, that was a blessing. The attention that once drowned her was now thinning, and she was finally starting to feel happy, an odd feeling.

At least, she thinks it's happy. Is happy when your smiling for no reason at the most random times, or when a person's mood automatically changes yours? She isn't sure.

Clara accepts John's friend request on Facebook, smiling at his frivolous profile picture of him wearing a fez. She stares at his picture longer than she probably should, engraving in her mind the now familiar angular He looked familiar, similar to someone else, but she couldn't place it. She shrugs it off, clicking on his name to view his profile.

He only has three pictures on his profile; His profile picture, a beautiful picture of the stars above London as his timeline cover (When will Facebook learn that time is not a line, but a big ball of wibbly wobbly timey wimey stuff?!), and a picture of her, in Chorus with the pink flower tucked behind her ear. It's the only picture with a caption, "She's my favourite mystery..."

Clara feels her face flush, and she scrolls back up quickly, to see John has logged on and said hi to her already. She clicks on the chat and replies back.

_So, you're going to watch Doctor Who tomorrow right? You promised me, remember?_ John says. Clara grins and types back,_ I didn't promise you, remember? _She can literally see him pouting at the screen, getting ready to bug her about it.

She cuts him off before he can though, _But I'll watch it anyway. _John responds by spamming her with tons of food stickers and Clara can't help but laughing as they flash across the screen quick like lightning, having only a second before being replaced by another sticker.

After a few moments, John stops, the last sticker he sends being Snoopy blowing a kiss. He doesn't seem to notice it, or chooses to ignore it, but Clara does.

Clara sucks in a breath, biting her lip, trying to not over think it as she carefully types, _So what happened in the recent episodes?_

John replies immediately, _I want you to watch it without any spoilers. But, maybe, if you want to, we could watch the new episode tomorrow, you know, together...Only if you want to, of course..._

Clara can sense the agitation John is emitting, and she can't help but feel jovial. (Again, she isn't entirely sure what she's feeling is happy, she's never had it before)

_Of course. _Clara types back slowly just to make him suffer as he anxiously awaits her response.

_JSJlovCHUhsjcbjbdUHDEeUSBppDHFHJS,.XNZ..S_

_Um..John? _Clara asks, worried. He replies moments later.

_Sorry, so sorry! I..I dropped the keyboard on accident..._ He replies. Clara can't help but laughing. _Doing what?_

_Ohhhhhhhhhhhhh...stuff. Promise not to laugh?_

_Promise. _Clara types, but she knows deep down she'll end up anyway.

_Dancing_, John messages after a moment's hesitation. Clara giggles, but types in a serious tone, _Practicing your moves?_

_You laughed! He accuses._

_Giggled, there is a difference, John. And you never answered my question. _She tries to remain serious in her message, knowing John is probably pouting again. She suddenly feels guilty, until he messages back again.

_I knew you would say that, Ozzie._

Clara blushes, cursing her body for constantly betraying her emotions everytime._ Same to you Sir Smithy Smith Smithsonian Smith Smiths_

_Hey! That's too many smiths!_

Clara smiles. _Do you prefer Chin Boy?_

_Yes. But only you can call me that, Ozzie. :)_

Clara falls back against her chair, smiling. Her head leans back, tilting upwards, and the luminescent glow from her laptop screen illuminates part of the room, leaving the rest of it in dark shadows. She doesn't know why she says it, but when the words slip out of her mouth, they feel comforting, hanging in the air.

"Rescue me, Chin Boy, and show me the stars."


	3. Cross My Hearts

_(POV with The Doctor)_

The Doctor, Madame Vastra, Jenny, and Strax rush to the Tardis, Clara unconscious and heavy in the Doctor's arms. Clutched gingerly in Clara's hand is her mother's leaf. The most important leaf in human history.

The Tardis doors swing open, Vastra rushing to the console, setting coordinates for Victorian London. Behind her, Strax shuts the doors, The Doctor laying Clara down gently on the floor to sonic her. Her head falls to the side and he picks it back up, setting her head down on his lap. The Doctor presses his temple to hers after reading the sonic.

"I'm not going to lose you. Not this time. I promise you, my Impossible Girl. I will rescue you."

The Tardis thrums, shaking and quivering as they move through the Vortex, and when it stops, Jenny and Vastra go out to prepare their home for Clara. Strax follows obediently after them, allowing the Doctor time alone.

He kisses Clara's head, and as carefully as he can, he lifts her back up, making sure her leaf doesn't fall from her hand.

Madame Vastra shows the Doctor to a bed in a room on the first floor. The room is aglow from a fire flickering in a fireplace, casting eerie shadows. He counts the shadows, just in case, then sets Clara down gently on the bed. Her hair fans out perfectly on the pillow, and he notices she looks so peaceful and angelic. He smiles sadly, a smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, then slowly takes the leaf from her hand, setting it down on the oak table by the bed.

The Doctor pulls a chair up by the bed and sonics her again, dropping his hand into his hands when it reads the same thing as before. He tries to think of a way he could help her, but his mind is too cluttered, his body too cluttered from jumping in his timestream. It feels like every particle of his body is being nipped at, taken apart, and he wonders briefly if he's going to die. He has no regenerations left, he'll be left to die, Clara left in her state. Even if she awakens, she'll be left in Victorian London.

"What's wrong with her, Doctor?" Vastra asks. He doesn't need to look up to see the worry set deep in her eyes. He listens silently as Jenny ushers out with Strax to get tea.

After a few minutes contemplating, the Doctor looks up at her. Lines crease his forehead, and Vastra knows they aren't of worry. It's fear. "She...She's in a coma, most likely caused from jumping..into my timestream. No one is meant to do that, no one. It's bad, she could..." He trails off, not wanting to say the last word. The Doctor stares at Clara, watching her chest rise and fall evenly. His head pounds, and he runs it with the palm of his hands, as if he can massage the pain away. But in reality, he's only temporarily taking it away just so it can come back even worse than before.

Jenny comes back in the room, staring at the floor. Strax follows her, carrying a tray of tea for everyone. He's the only one who has a smile plastered onto his face. "Here you go, sir." Strax says, handing the Doctor a cup of tea. He doesn't accept it, doesn't make any inclination toward it. Instead, the Doctor leans closer to Clara, measuring her breaths, and sonics her again.

"You don't have to sonic her every five seconds, Sir." Strax says, still holding out the tea. A look of anger passes the Doctor's face before it's replaced with fear again. "She needs to be safe. She said she felt safe before with me, but..." He trails off again, the pounding coming back.

Jenny had never seen anyone look so lost before in her life. "Madame, I do think it's time for us to get some rest. It's been a long day." She hints, trying to let the Doctor have some privacy. Vastra nods, getting the message. "You too, Strax." He lingers after they leave, staring at the Doctor, hand with the tea still outstretched, expecting him to take it.

When the Doctor doesn't, Strax sets the tray down on the edge of the bed. Strax throws more fire into the fireplace, turning back to the Doctor solemnly. "If you have any requests, you know where to find me, Mr Holmes." He smiles at his wit and walks out of the room before the Doctor can snark at him.

The Doctor sighs, remembering the joke about him being Sherlock Holmes. The time with the carnivorous snowmen and the ice lady. And Clara.

Clara falling off of the cloud, her eyes wide in fear...

He glances down at her again, sonicing her again when he realizes her even breathing had come to a halt.

The Doctor stands up quickly, the sudden movement throwing the chair back against the wall. He checks the sonic, checking her heartbeat by the vein on her neck. It restarts, evening out again. He sighs out of relief that she's still breathing, leaning forward to kiss her forehead.

Leaning back, he notices a vase of pink roses on the dresser in one corner. Moving over smoothly, he plucks one up, picking off all thorns and shortening the stem, then moving back to tuck the flower behind her ear.

The Doctor is just close enough to see her eyelids flutter, but she makes no move to waking up. He listens carefully as she murmurs something softly, "Rescue me, Chin..."

Her voice fades after the first three words, but it's enough for the Doctor.

_I will, my Impossible Girl. I will. Cross my hearts._


	4. Love is Ignorance

_(POV with Clara)_

"Umm...Does your father know you're going out?" John asks, saying the last two words quickly, trying to hide his nervousness and obvious excitement. But it's impossible, not only because of his blush that was growing ever darker, but the fact that he kept hopping back and forth between his feet, tugging at his loose, plain brown sweatshirt.

Clara grabs a green jacket thrown on her computer chair, slinging it over her arm as she walks out. "Oh, he doesn't care." John shrugs, watching Clara's long maroon dress sway and swish as she jumps down the staircase. Then she spins and catches his eye. "Eyes front, soldier. " She smirks, watching him descend clumsily.

"You know, you say you haven't watched any of the recent episodes, but I find that hard to believe when you say stuff like that." He opens the door for her, the breeze flowing in.

"And why do you say that?" Clara asks, sliding on her jacket as soon as the soft breeze hits her. She looks up as she does so, just to catch a glimpse of the stars, but they're hidden behind rain clouds. The moon, on the other hand, is still bright enough to break through, but barely. She sighs.

"Well, for one thing, you keep quoting it, like you know every line, and, well.." John trails off, staring at her still gazing at the sky. She breaks her gaze when he stops talking, but he resumes as soon as Clara looks at him, "You kinda look like her. And now I feel underdressed." John jokes, but Clara hears the strangeness in his voice, the fakeness.

Clara bites her lip. "Like..who?"

John shakes his head. "Nevermind, I'm just being..." He trails off again, flushing. "Uh..Come on, Ozzie."

She follows him to his car, only hesitant for a moment. It takes her a moment to take in how clean it is, and how blue the exterior is. A pretty shade of blue. _Tardis blue_, she says in her mind, smiling.

John's house isn't far from hers, their drive being a short estimated five minutes. They stay in silence, but it's a comfortable silence, as he stares out at the road, occasionally glancing at the girl next to him, her keeping a blank stare at the cloudy sky, the moon breaking through every now and then, illuminating her face.

John reaches over to her hand, and picks it up softly. Her face shows no initial reaction, but she squeezes his hand lightly, as if saying it's okay.

Inside, Clara feels a flurry of emotions erupt, confusion pelted with joy (Again, she isn't entirely sure if it's joy) covered by fear and wonder and excitement.

_The Doctor takes my hand, his big warm one covering my small one. _Clara thinks.

_Wait, what?_ She shakes her head to clear her thoughts, and notices the car is parked. John is already out, opening her door, letting Clara out. He's talking, saying stuff she should probably listen to since they were together. (Actually, Clara had no idea if they were, but she didn't want to ask him in fear of his answer. Friends held hands right? And he was probably just being nice, anyway. They had already basically destroyed the concept of personal space, anyway. So not together in couples terms, but friends terms...?) But she ignores him, focusing on a nagging feeling in her mind. Not one of danger, she wasn't bothered by those. But she couldn't figure it out.

John shows her to the living room, still talking, not noticing her trance-like state. He turns on the television, the episode starting immediately, as if it was waiting for them. John smiles at it, then at Clara, walking out of the room.

The beginning starts, with a guy warning people about strange things in the internet, then the theme song. She snaps out of it when someone's voice calls out.

"Angie! I can't find the internet!"

Clara sits up. On the screen is her, or someone who looks exactly like her, even with the same outfit, the same hairstyle, the same voice.

_That, that's not possible!_

She jumps off of the couch after a few shocked moments, when the Doctor is revealed to be living as a mad monk, the source of his madness being 'The woman Who Died Twice', someone else who looks like Clara.

She rushes out of the room, running into John, steadying herself when she plows into him. He grabs her shoulders to stop her, looking into her eyes. "Uh, John, I need to go..Sorry." She blushes and stares down at the ground. She doesn't need to look up to see his look of disappointment. Or to know that he changed his outfit for a fez.

_Like the Doctor, _she says in her mind.

John acts okay with it, though, "Oh, well, okay. That's okay. Maybe later we could chat on Facebook?" He asks, uncertainty lining his voice. Clara nods, guilt swelling in her throat.

"Do you want a ride home, Ozzie?" He asks, watching her carefully. She shakes her head, pursing her lips together. He leans down and kisses her cheek, his lips soft and warm, stopping her breath. He lingers there for a moment, and she has an urge to tilt her head and kiss him back, but by then, he has pulled away.

She smiles up at him, walking outside. Clara shuts the door, and he stares silently at the closed front door after she's gone.

As soon as Clara's sure John won't be able to see her, she starts running.

DWDWDWDWDWDWDWDW

Clara quietly slips in the front door, weary of her father's presence somewhere in the house.

She just doesn't expect him to be waiting in the living room for her.

Clara doesn't need to see him to tell he's been drinking. She can smell it, hanging thick and heavy in the air, bearing down on her like an animal. But she switches on the light anyway so he knows she knows.

Her father's dark eyes are glazed over and stare coldly at Clara's leaf, holding it between his forefinger and thumb, flipping it back and forth, back and forth. Gathering in a pile at the floor are edges of the leaf, either crumbled or ripped off. Three empty bottles of liquor gather on the coffee table, one half full gripped in her father's free hand. His green shirt is torn and stained with mysterious spots, as if he had gotten in a fight before. Her father's face carries graying stubble marking the sharp cheekbones, but his hair is slicked back with gel and combed neatly into place.

He looks up at her, an empty gaze.

Until she steps forward toward the stairs, expecting to make a clean getaway. Then he stands up tall, the leaf clutched in his hands like a lifeboat, crinkling, like it will save him from his life. Clara stops moving, waiting for her father to say something. Longing and hatred fill up his eyes, as well as tears. He collapses again, and Clara is about to console him, when he crushes the leaf in his hand, letting its broken pieces fall to the floor through his clenched hand.

Clara bites her lips, and she can feel blood, copper filling her mouth with it's bitter taste. Tears sting her eyes, a lump welling up in her throat as she rushes up to her room, further ignoring her father.

Her room is in no better condition than her father; The bedsheets are thrown carelessly around the small room, her clothes shredded around like confetti. Her chair is bent at an awkward angle, the arm jutting outwards. Her dresser is smashed, wooden pieces ready to impale. The few drawings she had hung up on the walls are scribbled on with curse words. Her sketchbook is the same, the leaf drawing ripped out, no doubt with her father's possession.

Her mother's book, 101 Places To See, is torn and shredded. Her mother's signature page is carefully torn out, the rest ripped carelessly, scribbled on just the same as the drawings.

The only thing not damaged is Clara's laptop, given to her when she was young by her father. He must've decided not to destroy it because he had spent his money on it, or because he didn't see it on the shelf in the closet.

Outside, she can hear her father's bedroom door slam, shaking the frame.

She doesn't want to stay in her destroyed room, but she can't run back to John. Not after her awkward exit. So she does the first thing that pops up in her mind.

She slips out the glass sliding door, carrying her laptop, not braving a look at the crumbled leaf pieces. She shuts it with a slam as she strides over to the wall, setting the laptop on the top. Clara jumps up quickly and carelessly, her leggings tearing against the roughness of the wall. From her father's bedroom window, she can hear glass shattering, and his movements as he hits the window. He could easily see her if he turns slightly to the left.

Clara stands up quickly, bending down again to pick up the laptop. Without edging over on the wall to get parallel to the neighbor's roof, she jumps, but it's a few centimeters short, her right boot sliding down on the roof, her left hanging in the air. She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, slowly crawling up on the roof using her elbows, the laptop clenched in her hands. She sits up when she's close to the middle, digging her feet down to stop sliding.

Clara opens the laptop, Facebook immediately popping up, her chat with John left open from their last talk.

_Hey Ozzie :)_

_Hey_

_Clara? Are you okay?_

Multiple messages from John sent at different times, the first one just five minutes after she left his house. The last is from a few seconds ago. Another one pops up.

_My Impossible Girl_

She sucks in her breath, pushing the computer away. Why was he calling her that? And how was she impossible?

Clara takes a glance at the computer again, it's screen illuminating her surroundings.

The message isn't there anymore.

She decides to message him. Maybe she just imagined it. She was, in fact, sitting on the neighbor's roof when she could've probably tried her own roof. Or just sat somewhere else, like in a chair, like a normal person. Not a roof, especially when it was supposed to rain at any moment.

_Hi John, _she messages, hesitant. As she waits in silence for him to message back, she listens to her father's words from his bedroom, incoherent curses and occasion stabs at her.

_Wake up! Please, Clara, wake up!_

She stares at the text, narrowing her eyes. _Stop it, John. That's not funny._

_Whose John? This is the Doctor_

_Stop it, John._ Clara says in warning. She's about to shut off the laptop when another message pops up.

_Clara Oswin Oswald, my Impossible Girl. This is not John, whoever he is, this is the Doctor. You know me. We travel together, across all oof time and space. We battle aliens and save the universe. You know this is true. You jumped into my timestream to save me, but you fell comatose. Please, Clara, you know this is the truth._

Clara shuts her eyes, counting to eleven in her head, her head beginning to hurt, but then her computer pings with another message.

_It's a dream, Clara. It's all a dream. Madame Vastra worries for you, as does Jenny, and Strax is the one who found out a way to let me talk to you, the clever potato. They miss you, Clara. Please wake up... I'm sorry I let this happen...I miss you_

She shuts down the computer and pushes it away, watching it blankly as it slides down a few inches, then stops. Out of the corner of her eye, she can see John's car pull up, watching him as he notices his friend sitting on someone else's roof, scrambling awkwardly onto onto the wall dividing the houses.

_I should never have let him in. They all hurt me in some way..._

He walks along the wall, arms outstretched for balance. Clara stares ahead, spying on him with her peripheral vision. Despite her better self, she can feel something in her heart. And this time, she knows it isn't happiness.

It's love.

Clara can't help but curse herself, because John made her happy. And she was blinded with ignorance. Blissful ignorance...

John doesn't notice her seemingly blank gaze, her lost brown eyes, or the tight way she hugs herself, her arms wrapped around her knees. He doesn't notice the laptop sitting by itself, in danger of crashing down to the grass below.

He steps easily over the gap, struggling for purchase on the roof, his gangly limbs flailing slightly, before he gives up, dropping down and scooting forwards on all fours.

John cups her cheek with one hand, moving it so she's facing him. Tears brim in her eyes as she notes how similar he is to the Doctor.

_Her Doctor. How do I wake up?_ She screams in her mind.

John leans toward her, just as the first raindrop from the clouds fall.


	5. It's A Dream

_(POV with The Doctor)_

**A/N-The Doctor's messages are in bold so they're easier to discern from the beginning part. (You'll understand once you read the chapter)**

Looking through the window, he can see dark clouds drifting across the sky, some blotting out the moon, some failing at its luminescent glow.

The Doctor looks down at Clara in his lap, her face peaceful.

He'd grown tired of sitting in the chair, so he had taken to talking to her, telling her stories, letting her sit in his lap. After the twenty-third story, he stopped talking and listened to the little sounds she made. Clara wod occasionally mumble words, and he would remember them, forming sentences that might have involved that word. For example, he had heard her say the word go, so he had come up with, "I need to go," and, "You need to go." He'd had others but he forgot about them when he had heard her giggle.

It was soft, and she had smiled slightly when it happened. The Doctor couldn't help but smile too, watching her and wondering what she had giggled at. He brushes her hair off her face, tucking it behind her ear, listening to her soft breaths, waiting for another giggle, another word.

"You really love her, don't you, Doctor?" Madame Vastra asks, leaning on the doorframe. The Doctor jumps, flushing dark red. "Uh, what? W-Where did you get that assumption from?" He stutters. He stares at Vastra, flailing slightly before he rests his hands down, flushing even darker when he brushes against Clara's arm. He lifts her up carefully, moving off the bed, setting her back down on the pillow. The Doctor fixes his bowtie and Vastra crosses her arms. "Come on, Doctor. You can't deny it. You two love each other."

"You really think so?" He asks, glancing down at her. "Uh, I mean, uh..So, why are you up so late? Or early, I don't know what time it is." He glances out the window, but that provides him with no help on whether or not it's morning.

"It's time...To wake Miss Clara. If she stays like this any longer, it could be fatal." Jenny appears behind Vastra, Strax's voice echoing from down the hall, calling the Doctor. He appears moments later, smiling. Jenny moves to let him through.

"Sir, I have this!" Strax says triumphantly, holding up a lorgnette. **(A/N- A lorgnette is a pair of glasses or opera glasses held by a long handle on one side)** "This will let you peer into her subconscious. Well, it will, if you sonic it." He hands it over, the Doctor takes it gratefully and sonics it. Then presses a button and sonics it again.

"What was that for?" Jenny asks, moving opposite of the Doctor. He smiles up at her, a determined look on his face. "I get to see into her subconscious, she gets to see into mine."

Vastra walks over to stand by him, saying softly, "Doctor, just admit it, you love Miss Clara." He ignores her, sonicing the lorgnette one more time, before holding it up to Clara.

_Her father's dark eyes are glazed over and stare coldly at Clara's leaf, holding it between his forefinger and thumb, flipping it back and forth, back and forth. Gathering in a pile at the floor are edges of the leaf, either crumbled or ripped off. Three empty bottles of liquor gather on the coffee table, one half full gripped in her father's free hand. His green shirt is torn and stained with mysterious spots, as if he had gotten in a fight before. Her father's face carries graying stubble marking the sharp cheekbones, but his hair is slicked back with gel and combed neatly into place._

_He looks up at her, an empty gaze._

_Until she steps forward toward the stairs, expecting to make a clean getaway. Then he stands up tall, the leaf clutched in his hands like a lifeboat, crinkling, like it will save him from his life. Clara stops moving, waiting for her father to say something. Longing and hatred fill up his eyes, as well as tears. He collapses again, and Clara is about to console him, when he crushes the leaf in his hand, letting its broken pieces fall to the floor through his clenched hand._

_Clara bites her lips, and she can feel blood, copper filling her mouth with it's bitter taste. Tears sting her eyes, a lump welling up in her throat as she rushes up to her room, further ignoring her father._

Jenny takes the sonic lorgnette from the Doctor's hands when she sees them shaking. Strax takes it from Jenny, flipping the lens to something else. He passes it down the rest of her body, scanning. He stops at her chest. "Doctor, this human male is not breathing."

The Doctor rushes over, staring down into the lense, looking at her still form. He reaches over, checking her pulse in her neck. It's still going, but growing softer by the second.

He grabs her small, cold hand, his big warm one completely covering hers. His mind races to figure out a way to help her, to wake her up.

Strax chuckles as he looks down at her heart, holding it away so the Doctor can't peer through it. He shows it Madame Vastra, who smiles.

The Doctor lets go of Clara's hand, setting it back down, to peer at the lorgnette. Immediately, Vastra blocks him out of the way, her eyes gleaming. "Doctor, human hearts tend to beat faster when they're near someone they like or love, right?" He nods, suspicious but keeping his silence.

Jenny smiles, realization lighting up her face when she understands what they're getting at. "Doctor, hold her hand again."

He blushes but listens to her anyway, fumbling for words. Strax scans her again, this time letting the Doctor see.

Clara's heart is beating, stronger. Her cold hand has begun to warm a little, the Doctor notices, also realizing it could also be from the heat his own hand is emitting.

Strax moves to her head, scanning her subconscious. The Doctor peers over, staring into the lense.

_Clara stands up quickly, bending down again to pick up the laptop. Without edging over on the wall to get parallel to the neighbor's roof, she jumps, but it's a few centimeters short, her right boot sliding down on the roof, her left hanging in the air. She takes a deep breath, forcing herself to calm down, slowly crawling up on the roof using her elbows, the laptop clenched in her hands. She sits up when she's close to the middle, digging her feet down to stop sliding._

The Doctor watches in silence, watching her. He hears Madame Vastra and Jenny depart, talking in the hallway, the front door opening. Strax stays, holding the lorgnette between his fat fingers.

_Clara opens the laptop, Facebook immediately popping up, her chat with John left open from their last talk._

_Hey Ozzie :)_

_Hey_

_Clara? Are you okay?_

_Multiple messages from John sent at different times, the first one just five minutes after she left his house. The last is from a few seconds ago. Another one pops up._

_**My Impossible Girl**_

He says it without even realizing it, but it appears on the screen and he feels joyful that it went through.

_She sucks in her breath, pushing the computer away. Why was he calling her that? And how was she impossible?_

_Clara takes a glance at the computer again, it's screen illuminating her surroundings. _

_The message isn't there anymore_.

The Doctor smiles, joyful tears brimming his eyes.

_She decides to message him. Maybe she just imagined it. She was, in fact, sitting on the neighbor's roof when she could've probably tried her own roof. Or just sat somewhere else, like in a chair, like a normal person. Not a roof, especially when it was supposed to rain at any moment._

The Doctor laughs when he sees her on the roof. He squeezes her hand lightly, getting ready for his chance.

_Hi John, she messages, hesitant. As she waits in silence for him to message back, she listens to her father's words from his bedroom, incoherent curses and occasion stabs at her._

_**Wake up! Please, Clara, wake up!**_

_She stares at the text, narrowing her eyes. Stop it, John. That's not funny._

_**Whose John? This is the Doctor**_

_Stop it, John. Clara says in warning. She's about to shut off the laptop when another message pops up._

_**Clara Oswin Oswald, my Impossible Girl. This is not John, whoever he is, this is the Doctor. You know me. We travel together, across all of time and space. We battle aliens and save the universe. You know this is true. You jumped into my timestream to save me, but you fell comatose. Please, Clara, you know this is the truth.**_

_Clara shuts her eyes, counting to eleven in her head, her head beginning to hurt, but then her computer pings with another message._

_**It's a dream, Clara. It's all a dream. Madame Vastra worries for you, as does Jenny, and Strax is the one who found out a way to let me talk to you, the clever potato. They miss you, Clara. Please wake up... I'm sorry I let this happen...I miss you**_

"So you DO love her!" Jenny exclaims beside the Doctor. He jumps surprised, hitting the wall by him. "Jenny! What are you talking about?"

She points to Clara. "I saw the message."

He sighs and turns back to Clara, staring at her face rather than the lens, Strax beaming across from him about the clever potato comment.

Jenny puts her hands on her hips. "Just kiss her, Doctor."

She watches amused, as a scarlet blush blooms on his face, crawling to his neck. He shakes his head slightly as Vastra comes back in the room, leaning against the doorframe. "She's right. If holding her hand speeds up her heart, imagine what kissing her would do."

He ponders for a moment. "What if it kills her?" Vastra looks at him like she's talking to a wall. "Doctor, when has a kiss killed anyone?"

He doesn't need to think about that one. "River once kissed me and poisoned me with her lipstick! I almsot died! Well, actually, I did. River kisses me again and saved me..."

Jenny turns away, rubbing her head, muttering, "Right now, I don't blame her for killing you." He can't tell if it's because he's annoying her, or because he just basically contradicted his own argument.

The Doctor stares down at Clara silently. Strax hands him the sonic lorgnette, walking out of the room. Jenny follows him. Madame Vastra goes to the opposite of the Doctor, staring at him with a serious look on her face. "Doctor, the chances of Clara waking up from her comatose state get slimmer and slimmer every day. If she doesn't wake today, she might die or be stuck in this state." She gestures to Clara's limp form. "And from what is going on in her dream, it isn't good." She leaves with that, letting the Doctor have his own time to think.

He takes a quick glance through the sonic lorgnette, watching as John (Even though John was a younger, human version of him, he didn't trust him.) leapt across the roof to Clara, flailing his limbs about.

The Doctor put down the lorgnette, staring at Clara's form.

Of course he didn't want her to die. But he wasn't sure if she wanted him to kiss her. What if she woke up disgusted or mad at him?

But he also didn't want Clara to die.

He lets her hand go, checking her pulse again. It beats fine for a few seconds before it drops dramatically, slowing down. He panics, holding her soft cheek, pressing his forehead to hers.

Her eyelids flutter, and he decides what he wants to do.

The Doctor leans in toward Clara...


	6. Next Stop, Everywhere

Clara Oswald's eyes stay closed as the Doctor kisses her, his lips against her soft ones.

He's about to pull away, defeated, when she grabs onto the lapels of his jacket, bringing him closer and slightly lifting herself up at the same time. Instead of flailing his arms about like he usually does, the Doctor holds her up, one hand behind her head, the other in the middle of her back.

When she finally pulls away from his lips, heart pounding, breathless, he hugs her, arms wrapped tightly around her small body, face buried in her hair, tears falling. She listens to his hearts frantically beating.

"Clara! My Clara!" He murmurs into her hair, eyes closed. She smiles into him, her voice muffled, "Doctor, are you okay?"

He finally loosens his grip around her slightly, staring into her big brown eyes. "Now I am, Clara."

Vastra rushes in, alarmed. "Clara! You're awake!" She rushes forward to the pair. The Doctor kisses Clara's forehead one more time before reluctantly letting her go from his arms. However, his hand still tightly clasps hers.

Strax rushes in, carrying in a tray of tea, and Jenny follows them moments after, eyes widening. "Clara!"

Clara touches her head with her free hand, still dazed from the kiss. Strax hands Clara a cup of tea, who takes it gratefully with one hand, looking down in the cup before looking back up. "What happened?"

Jenny looks to Vastra, who looks at the Doctor, bright crimson with a happy smile. He lets go of her hand to let her hold her cup of tea carefully with both hands, and he reaches over, brushing hair out of her face. A pink tinge blooms on her cheeks, and the Doctor's hearts leap at the sight.

"Doctor?" Clara asks again, worrisome. He realizes he's been staring at her for a while without saying anything. He snaps out of it, straightening his bowtie. "Oh! Uh..You were in a coma after you jumped into my about..oh, two days."

Clara looks confused, attempting to stand up. She wobbles and is about to fall when the Doctor catches her, hooking her arm around his shoulders to steady her. "Thank you." She whispers to him.

Saying aloud to all of them, "I was in my dream coma thingy," She hip bumps the Doctor when he laughs at her choice of words, "For about six weeks."

"Time compression, meaning the time spent in the comatose or dream state, or to put it in your words, dream coma thingy," Clara hip bumps him again, and lets out a small cheeky giggle as he continues, "ran quicker, faster than reality. For dreams, when you're actually sleeping it's the other way around, the time in the dream stretching out. In reality, the average dream is only four seconds long-"

A bell rings and Jenny pokes her head out into the hallway for a second, ignoring the Doctor's ramblings, rushing out to get the door. Strax leaves after, realizing that the Doctor probably was going to continue talking, carrying all the now empty cups of tea out. Vastra stays, listening to the Doctor as he rambles on.

"-In a dream, the beginning is when you don't know how you got there, but you don't really question it. In some cases, you can have no recollection of who you are, where you are, that kind of stuff. The ending is when it all starts to fade, starts to blend more into reality-"

Clara's watching as he flaps his hands about as he rambles on, intrigued by his knowledge of dreams.

"-Sometimes, you don't remember what happened in the dream until later on or never at all. Clara! What happened in the beginning of your dream coma thingy?"

Clara snaps back to attention, forgetting to hit him, "Oh, uh..I don't remember. But it wasn't good." She looks down sheepishly at the floor. The only things she had remembered was her father, the leaf, and John_._

_John..._

When she looks at the Doctor, she mistakes him for John, mostly because they were the exact same person. Except one was human and formed in the confines of her thoughts, and the other was a thousand year old alien who loved bowties and acted like a five year old in a candy store.

Jenny rushes in the room again, whispering into Madame Vastra's ear. She nods and turns to the pair, walking to them. "Well, Doctor and Miss- Well, it's probably Mrs now, anyway, , it has been a joy seeing you again. And I am happy the Doctor has finally admitted his feelings for you, Clara. But there is a matter in the drawing room that I must attend to. Until next time." She smiles, and the Doctor lets Clara's hand go for a moment to pull Vastra in a tight hug. Vastra responds by hugging him back for two seconds, before she pushes away gently. Vastra moves to Clara, pulling her in a hug much the way the Doctor did just seconds prior, and Clara embraces back.

Vastra walks out with them, the Doctor in the back, nabbing Clara's leaf from the nightstand table before catching up to the two. Vastra bids them a goodbye, and promptly strides away down the hall before disappearing into a room. Strax opens the door for the couple, bidding them a farewell with, "Goodbye, Mr and Ms Holmes." He cackles, shutting the door before the Doctor can retaliate back.

Clara looks up at the Doctor questioningly, and he looks down back at her, replying with, "Long story."

She seems to shrug it off, her arm linked in his, as they walk to the TARDIS, situated between tall, neatly trimmed bushes.

"So Clara, what was the last few days of the dream coma thingy like?" She forgets to hit him again, lost in thought.

"It was bad. There was a human version of you," She admits, blushing, "And he was so...domesticated." His face turns into a mask of horror. She laughs as he opens the Tardis doors.

"I have all of time and space right outside those doors. I will never settle in one place. But, " He spins around to face her, conjuring up her mother's leaf, "You can come with me."

"Are you asking me to go travelling with you again?"

He nods, still holding out the leaf. Gingerly, she takes it from him, leaning up to rustle his hair. "Of course, Chin Boy. Why wouldn't I?"

The Doctor rushes around the Tardis, flipping controls and pressing buttons, "All of time and space, everywhere and anywhere, every star that ever was, " He runs back to stand in front of Clara, "Where do you want to start?"

Clara hooks her arms around his neck, standing on her tiptoes and leaning in close. The Doctor blushes, smiling, as he rests his hands on the small of her back.

"Show me the stars."


End file.
